


So Spellbound, Darling

by sleepeasy



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M, Not Beta Read, Triwizard Tournament, character list will be updated as they appear, dongho + The Kids, i’m a nerd, multiple POVs, past 2hyun, possible jren (watch this space), you've been hwanged
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 22:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepeasy/pseuds/sleepeasy
Summary: The 2017 Triwizard Tournament was known for many things.To Seongwoo, it will always be known as the time he met him.





	1. bless our garden's growth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jisung - 7th year.  
> seongwoo, minhyun, minki, dongho, jonghyun - 6th year.  
> daniel - 5th year.  
> daehwi - 3rd year.

 “And that’s my fifth Harry so far. He was _never_ this common before.”

 

Daniel popped another Chocolate Frog into his mouth, gazing forlornly at the smiling face of the Head Auror on his card. Jisung let out another heavy sigh, taking away the rest of his sweets so as to not re-enact the Unfortunate Incident from the First Day of Daniel’s Fourth Year. The two of them were tucked into one row in the train compartment they were sharing with Seongwoo, with Daniel closest to the window, comfortably lying down on the plush red seats, and Jisung sitting at his feet. Daniel had built some kind of wrapper shrine on the side table, which he’d charmed to stay in place, and every so often brought it up in the conversation for Seongwoo and Jisung to unwillingly lament on.

 

Seongwoo sat across from them, preparing his phone for the patchy wi-fi it would inevitably have to face in Hogwarts. Although professors claimed that the school’s compatibility with technology had greatly improved in recent years, any muggle phone that wasn’t ten years old was practically useless once it was in the grounds. Sure, SnapMaj worked, and if he was really lucky he could scrape a comment on Instagram, but he had had a horrible time mourning the loss of even 144p videos last year. With a final unhygienic kiss to his screen, he placed his phone in the pocket of his faded jeans and stared up at the ceiling.

 

Sixth year. Here he was, barely recovering from his OWLs, definitely not prepared for NEWTs, and now having to be a commentator for the Triwizard Tournament; Hogwarts had never had one before. But if it was necessary, he wasn’t going to let any other commentator from the other schools try to wrangle the spot away from him.

 

Jisung, propped up against Daniel’s legs, was halfway through a newspaper. Every so often he mumbled something particularly engaging, and there was a lot; the Triwizard Tournament hadn’t occurred since the death of Cedric Diggory twenty-something years ago, and even the mere mention of it led to interest. People were understandably dismissive when rumours began swirling around – most of the gossip coming from none other than Rita Skeeter, who had somehow found a way to stay mildly relevant two decades later – particularly because the Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, had witnessed the devastating end to the last Tournament herself.

 

Later it would be discovered that another Tournament had been a topic of discussion and negotiation for years between Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons; McGonagall had simply been pestered to permit it. It was a shock when it was announced again, with the same tasks, and the age boundary lowered to sixteen. But a lot had changed in those twenty-something years; safety measures being one of them. In a time where the children of three schools that were once somewhat of a family had become totally estranged, there was a calling for unity. Something had to bring them together (even if it had to be fire-breathing dragons).

 

“Oh, forgot to mention,” Jisung mumbled hurriedly, turning his copy of the Daily Prophet to the front cover. He pointed it at Seongwoo. “You’re in here.”

 

“What? Where?”

 

Daniel scoffed. “Don’t show him that. His ego might burst right in front of you.”

 

Seongwoo leaned over precariously to see a tiny square on the bottom line – that, really, even he wouldn’t have noticed had he been skimming through – and realised that it was a photograph of himself from what had to be his fourth or fifth year. The caption underneath read, ‘ _Hogwarts student and tournament commentator, Seongwoo Hong_.’

 

“Great,” he managed through gritted teeth. “I might’ve thought I was just as much of a hopeful as any of these people,”—he gestured to a trio of teens who were obviously the focus of the cover, each considered a top student of their respective school—“but at least it’s clear now. Can’t even get my name right.”

 

“You? On the same level as Kang Dongho, who’s been flying since he came out of the womb?” Daniel reached – to no avail – for another chocolate frog, disbelief written all over his face. “You know that’s impossible. He’s the God of Durmstrang.”

 

“I’m prettier!”

 

Jisung prodded a finger at the picture of a handsome man in tailored uniform, the name _Minhyun Hwang_ in typescript underneath. “Face your loss.”

 

He left Seongwoo at a loss for words. He looked entirely otherworldly, soft but inherently masculine, black hair tumbling gently over perfect skin. His uniform fit him a little too well, making him a dream in baby blue. Seongwoo didn’t know what this sensation was, making home where his cold, dead heart should be, but it felt like he’d been meaning to feel it all along.

 

“Are you jealous?” Daniel laughed. “You’ve been silent for the past minute, and that’s an hour in Ong Time.”

 

Jisung snickered and gave him a high-five.

 

“Of course not! I just…”

 

 _Yeah, sure, I’m jealous,_ Seongwoo thought. _Better jealousy, than whatever this feeling may be._

“They’re looking at you.”

 

Minhyun swallowed audibly. There were a lot of things that Minki didn’t have to point out, especially that. He knew it already. People were looking; the moment he’d stepped into the Great Hall, they’d been looking. He could feel their stares searing into his skin. Perhaps he expected an unorthodox welcome – that is, if any of the rumours that surrounded Hogwarts were to be taken for truth, such as visitors being welcomed with a disastrous school song that was too horrible to be tolerated by mortal ears – but he certainly couldn’t have imagined this.

 

“I’m well aware,” he commented sharply, though his face softened. “And, anyway, they’re looking at _you_ , if you’d bothered to look _properly_.”

 

“Yeah, okay, forget about it,” Minki squeezed his shoulder. “Just find him.”

 

“There’s too many people.”

 

“Find him.”

 

Him. A hand pressed against a glass window. A smile he knew all too well to mean anything other than goodbye. Minhyun, kicking dust on the platform, shoes scuffed from running too fast. The last memory he had of him was of the final muggle train going to London that night, hand on glass, heart on sleeve.

 

Minhyun’s eyes darted everywhere, every corner of the room, every student looked over. It took him a minute to see Jonghyun, taken aback, lips apart. But it took him less than a second to smile.

 

Jonghyun arose, and Minhyun’s smile faltered. He didn’t have to talk to him, not here at least, when they hadn’t spoken for months, and not in front of so many people. But then the girl sitting next to him stood up too, and the boy after her, and suddenly the entirety of Hogwarts school was on their feet, breathing in before letting out a cacophonous chant in clumsy canon.

 

“I believe _that_ is a rendition of Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,” Minki said, suppressing his laughter.

 

 

The Goblet of Fire was a wonder of work, with crooning, whirling flames of blue. McGonagall revealed it the evening the other schools arrived, her face flickering with pain for a moment as she took out her wand. A simple wave unveiled the Goblet, swallowing all the persistent stares of the students before it; it never ceased to captivate the viewer, even with its small size.

 

Dongho watched it with a quiet yearning, stood far away from the phenomenon. He instead situated himself near the doors of the room, so that if he chose to run at the last minute, he could. Everyone looked to him to enter and win. His mother had packed a note in his things before he’d set off, asking him to bring her something special from Hogsmeade when he won. There was pressure; he couldn’t deny it if he tried.

 

“Hi! I.. I’m Daehwi. I’m a fan of yours, and I-I-I have Ginny Potter’s card, if you don’t have her already,” a voice stuttered, quietly asking for his attention.

 

Out of the shadows stepped out a Hogwarts boy, younger than him for sure, surrounded by a few astounded friends with similar green alterations to their uniforms. His bottom lip was shaking, and so was his left hand, holding a card with the fiery-haired former Holyhead Harpy on it, the other hand gesturing fervently at the few Chocolate Frog cards tucked carefully into Dongho’s belt. He’d developed an affection for the sweets; they weren’t very commonly sold back home.

 

“You play Quidditch too, so I thought...”

 

Dongho blinked, pausing for a second before letting a small smile form on his face. “Sure, I’ll take it. I don’t have any special ones to give to you, though.

 

“That’s fine! I don’t care about any cards. I’ve got them all anyway,” the boy answered a beat too early. “But if you could spare a bit of advice…”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

Daehwi took a comically deep breath. “Do you think I’d make it as a chaser if I tried out for Slytherin this year?”

 

“You realise my opinion’s not gonna help you at all, right?”

 

“I’m trying anything right now.”

 

Dongho scoffed, looking up at the ceiling. The wall felt weak against his spine. “Why me, then? Why come up to some scary-looking guy and ask his opinion on your Quidditch skills when he only has your face to look at?”

 

Daehwi gave him what could’ve been mistaken for a weak smile if it weren’t for the sincerity in his eyes. The younger boy was trembling, that much was true, but he was also burning with determination. The Goblet’s flames engulfed the attention of most of the people there, but it didn’t house the strongest fire in the room.

 

“Because you’re _you_.”

 

When Dongho looked at him, he felt the same rush that had swallowed his heart four years ago, when he had been burying himself in an overcoat in order to withstand the cold that came as a consequence for personal practice. He had slipped out during dinner. The field that older students used for Quidditch practice was free, as it would be that time of day, and barely moonlit. That night, he set off into the bitten wind on his Firebolt, and never found a thrill so real since.

 

“You will,” he said, after a while. “But work out a bit, boy wonder.”

 

 

Minhyun thumbed the piece of paper in his hand. It was brown and old, creased to the point where it looked like it had been torn apart and put together again. Upon it was his name in quilled cursive, fresh and slated, a stark black.

 

The room he stood in was empty. He wasn’t sure if it was the right one when he was looking for it, which had caused him to get a lot of stares when he circled round it a few times to wait for people to come out, but even when he was sure it was the right place, he was only truly convinced when he saw the Goblet. The chairs in the room were as bare as the floor, and the floor as bare as the walls. It was a hallway that had closed off its ends. One couldn’t have ever imagined that a few hours before, children had filled this room with laughter and apprehension; when he came, there was nothing.

 

But then life came in the form of defiant footsteps and a Hogwarts uniform, in a boy with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on him.

 

“You’re Minhyun, right?”

 

Minhyun lifted his head to see the boy properly. He said his name like he’d known him. Like they’d been sweethearts in a teen movie and met again long since after the film had been forgotten. Like he’d meant to say more, but had left the words in his throat. And Minhyun didn’t know who he was, this boy who’d turned his name into a breeze, but he left him intrigued.

 

“That… that’s me,” he managed, catching his breath with some effort. “And you’re?”

 

“Ong Seongwoo. Don’t suppose I’ve been on the papers or anything back in France, huh? Hogwarts commentator?”

 

“For the Tournament?” _Great, he’s going to be everywhere,_ Minhyun thought. _He’s probably making fun of my English in his head._ “I.. I don’t think I recall you being mentioned.”

 

A silence followed. A room that had been too large for the two of them now seemed to be a tight fit. But then Seongwoo laughed, the sound ringing, his smile unforgettable. In a second their unwritten, surreptitious failure at conversation had been immediately forgotten – to Minhyun, at least.

 

 

Seongwoo watched Minhyun place his piece of paper into the fire, his hand gingerly wavering next to the flames. He was hesitating.

 

“What are you waiting for?”

 

They met eyes, and his were hypnotic, things of beauty. Years later, Seongwoo would swear that at that very moment, he could feel his fingers turning into stone.

 

“Nothing,” Minhyun breathed, stepping back as the fire devoured his name. “Nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading dears!
> 
> chapter title is from the song "cool with you" by her's, and the work title is from "at last" by etta james.
> 
> i had a lot of fun writing this. i don't have any experience in writing a chaptered fic, but i'll try to keep this one going for you. it'll probably be five chapters long, but nothing's in stone just yet.
> 
> thanks for reading! hmu @honeyhwangs on twt if you want.


	2. for a strange sober minute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tournament's First Task; the beginning of winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sungwoon - 7th year.  
> jihoon, woojin - 4th year.  
> jinyoung - 3rd year.  
> guanlin, seonho - 2nd year.

“And our second champion: Dongho Kang, of the Durmstrang Institute.”

 

The flash of a muggle phone went off, white light piercing his eyes. “For my snap,” a student reasoned. Dongho managed a glance that probably came off far more intimidating than he intended, and stood. He breathed heavy and deep into the stagnant air, closing his eyes. Opened. More people, more voices, more phones. White light, again. He didn’t take his eyes off it.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

A familiar voice; a familiar face. He was older now. They both were. Minhyun pulled him into a hug, the kind that tingled with feeling. He smelled like star anise and a crackling fire. He flickered with home.

 

“I’m a champion, too. They called me, up just now,” Minhyun said. “It’s been a while.”

 

“Yes,” Dongho found himself mumbling. “Yes, it has.”

 

 

They weren’t the type of people that were meant to be friends. It was a summer trip that had changed it, when Dongho’s family had visited France for business; business turned out to be stopping by for a week at a hidden resort in the Pyrenees and realising that said hidden resort was a stone’s throw away from the Palace of Beauxbatons. Not that he knew where the grounds were – obscured with spells, of course – but he had been told by a student he’d met.

 

Dongho had been left to explore for a bit – “Practise brooding, perhaps,” his mother had said – when Minhyun had knocked into him, having stumbled out of a nearby woodland with a sorry excuse of a blazer held aloft on his left arm. He had apologised, said his Thestral had taken a slight detour, said that he wasn’t quite used to seeing them yet. Dongho had called him mad at the time, and had told him to go away. Minhyun had refused. “Holidays,” he said, with a gentle air. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

 

They spent the remainder of their time exploring. Over that period, Dongho realised that Minhyun could _talk_. He babbled on about how responsible he was back at school, which the younger couldn’t bring himself to believe until he’d had sewn his blazer back up and showed him the wide variety of badges he had carefully pinned down a single lapel. He talked his way through their failed attempt at becoming blood brothers. And he’d garbled incessantly on the night before Dongho had to leave, mostly because both knew that letters could only say so much.

 

 

After Minhyun had interrupted his wallowing the night before, Seongwoo had begun to think that these moments of coincidence may have a little weight to them. And this was something that was good, on the whole. He saw him everywhere, whether it be a bench away during breakfast, or passing by in the hallways. But there was a consequence: distraction.

 

He knew that Minhyun was handsome and talented and intelligent from the copious amount of praise written in the Prophet, but he didn’t expect him to be such a disturbance. At the First Task briefing, which Seongwoo had attended completely by accident when he was trying to avoid it, Minhyun had decided to – out of all the places in the world – sit next to him.

 

Seongwoo tried to convince himself that it was the professor droning on about the contents that had left his brain about as useful as a static television screen, but he knew better than to persist with false thoughts. Minhyun was an incredible, unimaginable bother. He didn’t have to do anything to bother Seongwoo except exist, which he did, and well. Every day since they had met, Minhyun had made sure to acknowledge Seongwoo as a friend, alone or with friends or fans.

 

People were entranced by him – they followed him as they would the Pied Piper, his smile and voice his flute. And Seongwoo could feel himself falling, an arm’s length away.

 

 

Out of all of Hogwarts’ common rooms, Hufflepuff’s was arguably the homeliest. Of course, it had its similarities with the others – a fireplace, a security system, an unbelievably accommodating space despite the number of students who resided in it – but it was far more familiar to many. Those who had been prepared for wizarding school life would have found what they expected: a place to rest. But those who had been unaware of magic prior to attending Hogwarts, who had crumpled up their acceptance letters in disbelief the summer before their First Year, usually found it to be a reminder of home.

 

Jinyoung had never once regretted being a Hufflepuff. He could never, not when he was so adamant with making it his. Every evening he’d collapse into the comfiest armchair available, which was usually the one facing the third window from the left, for it gave him a perfect view of the stars when the sun fell. This evening was no different. He fell into the seat, fished out his phone that had been buried in his pocket amongst a shameful amount of _Jonghyun for the Cup!_ badges, and found peace.

 

There was a fault in this daily routine, however.

 

A bloodcurdling scream that could have only come from the mouth of a certain Seonho rippled throughout the basement. The slight echo from the walls didn’t help the slightest bit. Several students bolted, scurrying off in an attempt to save their eardrums. Jinyoung sighed.

 

“Should I even ask?”

Seonho groaned audibly. “What do you think?”

 

“Fine. What’s—”

 

“Wait.”

 

A notification from SnapMaj popped up on Jinyoung’s phone. He opened the app, careful not to tap on any messages he knew would be from people who used the app solely to beg for streaks (they made up a good three-quarters of his messages). Seonho, having retreated to the dormitories in a devastated hurry, sent the entire Hufflepuff groupchat a video, and 3 crying emojis.

 

**_seonho_ **

_open ur eyes sheeple_

**_guanlin_ **

_can u not spam this ffs_

_surely theres a gc for ur thirsty ass_

**_jinyoung_ **

_there is lol. seonho added me by accident_

**_seonho_ **

_um excuse me this is Important News ok_

_even the god of slytherin is whipped._

 

Park Woojin, a whole-school favourite for his ability to record some of the most memeworthy events at Hogwarts, had filmed a Sixth Year that Jinyoung instantly recognised as Seongwoo, a popular Slytherin. He was a born-and-bred Pureblood, smart and handsome and talented. Any story about him ran rampant amongst the lower years. One that Jinyoung was particularly fond of was the Sorting Hat insisting that Seongwoo was ‘a hair away from Hufflepuff’ whilst sorting him into a suitable house.

 

In the video, Seongwoo and Beauxbatons’ Minhyun were engaged in a heated conversation in one of the courtyards, seated on a bench. Minhyun had a Slytherin cloak wrapped around him, presumably belonging to the former. The weather was approaching its winter.

 

 “This is absolutely _not_ you,” Seongwoo was spluttering thumbing the badge that once adorned his jumper with pride, covering it as it sagged in embarrassment. “It—it changes faces to the other Triwizard competitors too! I’m doing my job as a representative!”

 

“So you’re telling me—” Minhyun laughed, the younger’s cloak brushing against his shirt. “You’re telling me that a blue badge with my face that says _Hwang Can Be My Emperor!_ has absolutely nothing to do with my existence.”

 

“It’s your ego. It’s all your ego.”

 

“My ego has an effect on you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

**_jinyoung_ **

_dude is that what mh’s voice sounds like??_

**_guanlin_ **

_m8_

**_seonho_ **

_it’s too late_

_u’ve been hwanged_

 

 

Sungwoon had a spot.

 

Hogwarts’ Quidditch pitch was rebuilt around a year before he was born, not too long after it had been burnt down. Consequently, there were still remnants of black swept under the blades of green, and a permanent sense of caution when it was being used. The stands were the most obvious nostalgia trip for alumni and adults; the students piled into them, bearing their house colours and dropping betting money on the floor.

 

This same structure had been used for the construction of the Tournament Arena, which meant he could still keep his seat, as long as the other schools didn’t decide to interfere. Sungwoon’s spot was questionably chosen to some. It was in the midst of everything, every station of chaos, a place exclusive only to those that he deemed worthy. He was a Slytherin sat in the middle of a mostly Gryffindor crowd; this wasn’t intentional, but nobody listened. Still, it was the best place for a perfect view of the events of the Tournament. As he would be during a Quidditch match, he was left undisturbed, so he could talk to people as he felt necessary, and free to keep any snacks to himself.

 

“There’s a seat here!”

 

An adorably oblivious Daniel pointed at the space next to him. Another benefit of Sungwoon having his own spot was that people knew to leave a gap so that he could enter a state of comfort. However, he knew Daniel to be somewhat Potterlike in terms of knowing things like this – that is, to say, completely unaware – and proceeded to pretend that he hadn’t notice the boy inching Jisung forward with piteous enthusiasm.

 

Sungwoon didn’t bother to look at him. “Don’t even think about parking that cute butt anywhere near me, Yoon.”

 

Jisung froze mid-squat.

 

 

“It’s my own pleasure to welcome you all to the First Task of this year’s Triwizard Tournament!”

 

The crowd was raucous; the addition of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang audiences had made quite the difference but Hogwarts’ cheers were easy to pinpoint. Seongwoo caught his breath, leaning away from the microphone to take in the noise. People looked to him to hold this entire Tournament together, especially since past ones had been catastrophic. There were too many people waiting for it to fail for him not to aim to succeed, and as much as that scared him, he couldn’t bear to think of all the people who’d be disappointed if he let it all go.

 

“The First Task is a test of boldness, of audacity. And it goes fast. Before you know it, a dragon personally picked by each competitor will have stomped onto these grounds faster than your lips can muster a _Merlin_ , and our champions will be left to their own devices, to retrieve a crucial golden egg hidden amongst those of dragons, and bring honour to their school.”

 

A creature with magnificent copper scales stalked into the arena, and a collective silence gathered throughout the stands. Whether this was a reaction built on pure anticipation or terror was not something that could be determined at that moment; instead, it would come to vary from person to person, from each retelling. Seongwoo didn’t know what he felt, then – nothing, save for a tiny bit of awe.

 

 

“Minhyun told me you were great at Care Of Magical Creatures. Any prior experience with dragons?”

 

Jonghyun pulled up the arm of his jumper. The remnants of a bruise decorated his forearm like a wreath; it was slightly discoloured, as if it once had a greenish tint. “If this counts as experience,” he said with a light laugh. “I did some volunteer work at a dragon sanctuary as part of a retreat in August. The Ridgebacks didn’t like me very much, but luckily it wasn’t serious.”

 

“Your life is crazy. I spend almost all my time flower arranging back at Beauxbatons. It’s a lot less chaotic than a dragon sanctuary, I imagine.”

 

“I don’t know. A flower surrounded by flowers. It seems fit.”

 

“Sorry, what was that?”

 

“Oh, uh, nothing.”

 

Minki looked up and blinked for a second. He looked back upon his journal, which had been filled with scrawls that (with a bit of effort) could be seen as vaguely resembling coherent sentences, and sighed. He’d given up writing halfway through the conversation; Jonghyun was a welcome hindrance. They were close enough to be called friends, however friendly they could manage to be.

 

 

The first time Minki had first heard Jonghyun’s name uttered was a long time ago. Minhyun’s family were purebloods, well-known for their potion-making company; they ran a single store, tucked away on a Paris side street. Minhyun was a model son – he would spend most of his school holidays working or training fellow students who had been hired for summer jobs. Whenever he retold little happenings to Minki, they were never particularly focused on customers but rather the events that involved them.

 

This was practically thrown out of the window when Jonghyun had visited.

 

“I lost myself looking, Minki, you had to be there to see him, you had to. I couldn’t help it – I almost knocked everything over. He asked for a Draught of Peace, and my hand swept over the jar of moonstone, I could’ve dropped it easily– but then he grabbed my arm and pushed the jar back so it wouldn’t spill– you had to be there. And I told him he could leave, and I’d send a text when it was ready, but he said he’d rather stay and talk to me than go robe shopping with his parents – oh, and guess what he did?”

 

Minki rubbed his eyes. They’d been Skyping for hours, and he had muggle jet lag; he’d only just landed back in France after a week abroad. “What?”

 

“He stayed, and we talked. And he’s intelligent, incredibly, but he doesn’t boast, he’s awfully sweet about it. He goes to Hogwarts, you know. And he’s coming tomorrow. I’d like for you to meet him.”

 

“I don’t know about that—”

 

Minhyun sat completely still; for a moment, Minki thought his screen had frozen. “I have to make sure he isn’t a hallucination. And you’re the only person who would be ecstatic to tell me I’m crazy, Minki.”

 

 

Looking at Jonghyun now, Minki felt a little uncertain. He would smile whenever they caught eyes, and answer his questions happily, but it felt wrong to even hold his gaze. Minki didn’t know why he felt the way he did. It wasn’t pity or hatred – deep inside, he felt selfish. He knew it was wrong to be greedy.

 

He took to nervously scouring the surroundings instead. They were sat in the corner of the marquee-like lounge provided for the First Task; for a while, it was only the two of them, but Minhyun had appeared after a few minutes of conversation. Only champions, professors and other important people were really permitted to enter, but nobody minded Minki too much, not after they found that he wrote for the school newspaper.

 

At the back was a mildly satisfactory selection of refreshments, which had become somewhat of a meeting place for the professors, free to humblebrag about their school and how superior their representative competitor was when compared to the others. There were some more seats to his left and right; Dongho was sitting with someone that looked like a teacher, frantically muttering about techniques. Another adult, more wound-up this time, stood impatiently at the entrance, waving in Jonghyun’s direction.

 

“Looks like it’s you first,” Minki said.

 

Minhyun pulled Jonghyun up from his seat. “Good luck.”

 

“You too,” Jonghyun replied. He grabbed Minhyun’s forearm. “Tell me if I did well, okay?”

 

 

_Don’t hurt it._

The words rang in Jonghyun’s head. He breathed, barely having time to exhale as the Vipertooth billowed out another batch of flames. It had him in a trap. He hid behind a rock, fumbling for his wand. Alder wood, with a Phoenix feather core. It was cool in his hand, constant in the chaos.

 

Seongwoo spluttered into the microphone. “He’s reaching for something in his pocket. Whatever it is, he needs to pull it out, quick; the Vipertooth’s about to go in for another attack, and he needs to—”

 

Move. Jonghyun dragged himself backwards, missing the anticipated flames within milliseconds, just charring the threads of his jumper. There was no time for catching breath. He ran, aiming for the dragon’s nest, in full view this time. It wasn’t wise, it really wasn’t, to be this close. But this task wasn’t meant for the wise – it was meant for the brave, and maybe the foolish. Perhaps he had more Gryffindor in him than he thought.

 

“Jonghyun’s pulled out his wand. But the dragon’s taking aim…”

 

He pointed it towards the creature, stalling, making eye contact. There was something about dragons that made his head hurt a little. Like something was pressing at the back of his mind and etching words into his brain. He’d heard of Parseltongue before, but there was nothing out there that described what he was feeling in that moment. The Vipertooth peered at him, stopping for a moment. Looking at it made the pain worse, but its voice clearer. _Please don’t hurt me_ , it begged.

 

The spell was on the tip of his tongue. He remembered learning it in Charms years ago. _Immobulus._ He said it again, quieter but screaming in his head. _Immobulus!_

The dragon stilled; he ran.

 

 

“He barely made it out,” Seonho said. “He didn’t open his mouth but the dragon froze anyway. How on earth did he manage that?”

 

“I thought he used a freezing spell of some sort,” Woojin mused.

 

Daehwi shook his head. “He didn’t say anything, though.”

 

“Unless Jonghyun has the power of some incredible legendary wizard, I don’t think he’d be able to pull that off without activating the incantation,” Jihoon said. “Dongho charmed the Welsh Green, didn’t he?”

 

Seonho reached for some of Jihoon’s popcorn; upon realising that he had probably taken it all, he leaned over and fumbled for some of Jinyoung’s. “Dongho did have to run for his life half the time,” he managed to say, words garbled. “But it was good. He’s good. Still scary.”

 

“He is _not_ ,” Daehwi retorted, almost immediately.

 

“You’re one to talk,” Woojin grinned. “But yeah, he did get injured. Did you see the blood? It was dripping all the way down his arm. Least it wasn’t poisonous. He’s lucky Jonghyun got the Vipertooth.”

 

As the rest of the boys broke off into their own discussions, Seonho turned to Guanlin, who was sat on the end of their row. He was quiet; not that he wasn’t usually, but he seemed deep in thought, his eyes leading to the Hogwarts champion, a tiny speck of a teen from their viewpoint high up in the stands. Jonghyun was walking off, a gleaming golden egg tucked warmly under his arm. It took a second for Guanlin to break his silence.

 

“What’s it like to be an egg?” he asked.

 

 

“And he’s hit the Short-Snout with a conjuctivitis curse! A smart move from an heartflutteringly skilled competitor. Apparently I can’t say– oh, he’s almost there!”

 

Minhyun tightened the grip on his wand. He had made a plan of possible ways to work around the dragon in the days building up to the First Task, but none of it had even managed to cross his mind during the actual event. No, at that moment, he was just a little more focused on not _dying_ – the last thing Beauxbatons would want on their hands was having to return the Hwang family’s darling son in the form of a pile of ash.

 

There weren’t very many ways to beat a dragon, but there were a few more when it came to stalling them. He decided to target its eyes, and had managed to catch the Short-Snout off-guard, barely escaping its blind spouts of fire as he bought time to grab the egg and _go_. It felt like a mile away, even when he knew it was in his grasp. From the audience’s view, it had to be a mile away. Nothing had ever felt so far.

 

“The dragon has recovered! Minhyun needs to get it _now_ —oh, god, watch out!”

 

 

“Minki told me that daffodils or sunflowers were good. I went for the big ones.”

 

Minhyun smiled, dimmer than usual. He’d passed the Task, that much was true, but he’d suffered some burns. He was taken to the Infirmary straight after. The audience had dispersed within seconds, and several people had attempted to find him. Minki and Dongho had come first, and Jonghyun quick behind them; they left soon after. Those who couldn’t see him left an abundance of gifts and letters in their absence.

 

It was evening when the nurse had left Minhyun with his dinner. He assumed it would be the last time he’d see someone that day, but instead the door had opened moments after she’d exited. The handle turned shyly, and a faint happiness had overcome him.

 

Seongwoo was tired. Minhyun could see. His hands were clasped around the bodies of sunflowers, jittering, again. His lips were cold – or at least, they looked it. He came closer, pulled a seat up next to Minhyun’s bed, and placed the flowers on a nearby table.

 

The room was, for lack of a more romantic description, incredibly sterile. It was winter, and the room was cold, and so, perhaps, was Seongwoo. But he was still warm to Minhyun. He was a miracle, maybe.

 

“I’m a what? A miracle?”

 

“Did I say it out loud?”

 

“Merlin. I almost thought you _weren’t_ falling for me.”

 

 _So you know I am_ , Minhyun meant to say. He managed, with the best of his ability, to keep it in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's finally been posted..
> 
> if you've seen my twitter (@honeyhwangs lol) you'll probably know i've been working on this for a frankly blasphemous amount of time. i'm sorry for not posting for so long. life seriously caught up with me - i'd planned to have this up before christmas haha. i was never satisfied and never available. but it's done now.
> 
> a little tidbit! i was originally going to have a gryffindor ong, but decided on slytherin in the end. i'm not sure how i feel about it, haha.
> 
> thank you for reading, i hope it didn't disappoint. title is from sway by cehryl.
> 
> sleep easy.  
> \--  
> edit (13/02): i've changed some of the ages and years for ~better dynamics~ (okay i might just have been confused from what i had last time... and wanted 2park in the same year). please check my top notes from both chapters if it helps!


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